


and everyone's in love and the flowers pick themselves

by weaslayyy



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 08:41:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7838068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weaslayyy/pseuds/weaslayyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake Peralta owns a flower shop. Amy Santiago walks in on a Tuesday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and everyone's in love and the flowers pick themselves

**Author's Note:**

> based off of that tumblr prompt about the fuck-you bouquet.

Amy Santiago walks into Jake’s flower shop on what, in retrospect, was a rather unremarkable day to meet such a remarkable person. A regular, run of the mill Tuesday -- two orders of first date roses, one funeral arrangement for someone’s racist great-grandfather, and a bouquet for Alvira’s 72nd birthday extravaganza. Jake is clearing up the stray clippings, brushing them off the counters and onto the floor where he can sweep them when the door opens. It’s 9 pm.

 _Citron,_ his mind whispers immediately: _Sadness._

He blinks. The woman is still standing, right hand grasping the doorknob as she seems to argue with herself about the merits of entering the shop. She’s biting her lip, worrying at the skin as her eyes dart across the room, focusing on the murals and the old stone fountain and the peony cuttings littering the ground next to a haphazard pile of rose thorns. Finally they settle on Jake himself, at which point they widen as she takes a deep, steadying breath.

She opens her mouth, still standing framed inside his doorstep, but nothing comes out. Jake realizes that he’ll probably have to begin the introductions.

_Lavender: Distrust._

“Sorry about the mess,” he tries, because she lingered over the stems and leaves and thorns on the ground the longest. “You’ve got me right at closing time.”

Well, two hours after, but he’s the one who forgot to flip the sign to “Closed.”

“Oh my god!” Her hand falls away from the doorknob and clenches into a fist at her side. “I’m so sorry, I’ll just...” She steps backwards, clearly meaning to turn around and hide the color flushing her cheeks. Jake takes an almost involuntary step forward.

“No, no, it’s not a problem,” he shouts, louder than probably necessary, a sudden panic flooding his insides. She freezes, cocking her head sideways. Jake blushes. “I mean, it’s fine, please come in if you still want to, I mean you don’t have to obviously you’re free to choose any flower shop I just thought you might want to come into mine and--”

She smiles for the first time, faint and slightly rueful, but a smile nonetheless. A chuckle, dry and soft. Jake almost swallows his tongue.

“Thank you.” She walks forward and thrusts out a hand. “My name is Amy Santiago.”

She’s very pretty when she smiles, all chapped lips and bright, intelligent eyes. _Beauty: Lily._

“Jake Peralta.” He lets go of the rag, not noticing it fall to the ground as he takes Amy Santiago’s hand and shakes.

Her smile widens, deepens a little with sincerity. “I figured. Jake’s Flower Emporium, right?”

Jake nods, taking note of the slopes of her cheekbones and the slight arch of her eyebrows. “My mom used to own the place, before she realized that teaching fourth-graders how to use chalk pastels was her true life calling.”

Amy’s face brightens immediately, grip tightening in excitement as neither of them release the other’s hand. “My mom teaches elementary school too! Fifth grade!”

“A very important transitional step towards the rigors of middle school curriculums.”

“Exactly! _Such_ an important age.”

 _Chervil: Sincerity_. They’re still holding hands.

Unfortunately, Amy realizes that just when Jake does, and drops his hand immediately, blush returning as she looks down then up before finally focusing on the area between Jake’s eyes. She looks as if she’s about to apologize, when Jake blurts out the first thing that crosses his mind.

“You’ve got a very firm grip.”

She pauses. Blinks. Tries to gauge Jake’s sincerity, before straightening her shoulders.

“I took a seminar,” she says, with all the bluster of someone who isn’t used to being respected.

Jake nods, ignoring the slight pang of indignation he feels on behalf of this woman he’s just met. “Definitely got your money’s worth. 10/10 would do again if you ask me.”

Another smile, surprised and grateful, and wrong. “Thank you.” Suddenly, she shakes her head. “Sorry, I came to place a special order. If....you can do those?”

Jake knows a context change as well as anyone else, and motions for her to continue as he picks up the rag and sticks it in his pocket, fetching his broom and to sweep up the cuttings.

“You see....” she begins, scuffing her boots on the ground, “You see....”

“I don’t really.” Jake smiles, bending down to scoop the cuttings into a bag and tie it, walking to the front of the shop to deposit everything next to the door where he’ll remember to take it out before he leaves.

Laugh number two, smile number three. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

He shrugs, smile changing into something closer to a smirk. “I’ve heard people say that about me, once or twice.”

There’s something about Amy Santiago that makes Jake think of a bouquet of red roses -- a sense of comfort and beauty and timelessness to the way she moves and talks and laughs. He thinks she’d look good with them, a few rose buds tucked into a bun, or a newly bloomed flower pinned right over her ear.

“Hmph. Anyways...” Amy interrupts Jake’s train of thought and takes a breath, no longer anxious as much as resigned, unconsciously bringing her hands to her hips, Wonder Woman style. “Anyways, I want a bouquet that says fuck you.” Her voice for the first time is strong: authoritative, clear, accepts no arguments.

The thorns, Jake thinks. Amy Santiago, underneath all of her former insecurity, is clearly not someone to be easily denied.

Luckily, Jake couldn’t if he tried. He drops the broom to pump his fist into the air, whooping three times before he controls himself enough to form words. Amy Santiago couldn’t possibly know that she’s just crossed out an entry on his bucket list.

“This is the moment I was born for,” he shrieks at the walls, the murals, the stone fountain that hasn’t been turned on since last winter. “Fuck you!”

He turns quickly to Amy, who’s been watching his performance with a mix of bemusement, satisfaction and glee. “Not...not you, of course, just--”

“I get it.” Her face finally drops all of its anxious pretense, all the lines and pinches fading away until she’s light, simple joy without any of the prior caveats. Jake thinks she looks very young, in this moment. “So you can do it, then?”

Jake nods vehemently, looking around for the proper flowers. He’s known this combination since the age of 13, when his pre-Algebra teacher had called in his mom to tell her that her son was an idiot who would probably drop out of school. Karen Peralta had never let her son walk out of the shop with that particular arrangement, but he’d filed it safely in the back of his mind, to be used when the time came.

He checks the old clock on the wall: 9:13.

“You bet I can.” Amy’s smile grows even wider, as she claps her hands together. Jake hesitates slightly. “It might take a bit, if you’re okay with that, but just sit down and I’ll get everything together.”

Amy blinks. “Just like that?” Strands of her hair have fallen out of her bun and curl around her face. Her eyes, now that she’s looking directly at him, are clear: soft but lined with steel.

 _Lavender_ , he hears faintly, the sound soft against the edges of his brain. _Enchantment._

“Yeah,” he says, eyes focusing on her lips, chapped and bitten and perfect. “Just like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> so first and foremost i'd like to thank my buddy philthestone who has birthed this au with me and read it over and gave many edits a few months ago. half the description would not exist if phil hadn't painstakingly reminded me to show not tell over and over and over. im getting better though. slowly. 
> 
> anyways this has been on tumblr for a while and it really isnt substantially different despite the month or so between the two postings but *shrug emoji* 
> 
> thanks for reading!!! have a nice day!!!


End file.
